Best Consonants Poems

When tuscan tunes of twilight,
cascade as clementine confetti, 
She searches for secret silhouettes,
swirling to the symphony 
of sunflower serenades.

In the midst of faded fields,
marigold memories crawl back,
refraining yesterday’s
tangerine dreams.
Swans glide in
sullen grace,
illustrating a saffron 
backdrop from
sweet sighs of 
fauna’s concerto.

Harmony of melodies
is the idyllic essence...

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punctuation walks
on eggshells
when
words like
               water
                       falls
flow into nothingness,
soaked in...

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Ink spills purposely on paper
forming letters of certain alphabets
to vowels and consonants.
Though speechless, one puts
forth effort to enunciate and
pronounce aloud the syllables
carefully to articulate loves interest.
Do you
want to
be my
one 
and 
only 
Love Interest?


Pace INK-U-SCRIPT
03-07-13...

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It was tantalizing, sweet completion
Lines of blue ink filling white space
Tastes of emotions, colors of consonants
Music of vowels, syllables singing
To create, and satiate

Then, time thinned
Responsibility and stress stepped in
Poetry, after all, does not pay the bills
Stop cloud watching and become an adult
They said, and they...

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Ashes to Ashes

Smoke
rises in the distance.

The boxcar
rocks,
rocks,
rocks;
stones
are placed along the ties.
Were they placed by Chance
or left 
as gently as Kaddish.
I lift my hands in the darkness;
the light of the knothole 
lights the tips of my fingers like Shabbat candles,
and I cover my eyes.

I can smell...

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I know you are sensitive,
not sentimental,
but it has been four years,
that's one thousand 
four hundred and sixty one days,
since enlightened tides kissed 
those island shores.

My soul was wrapped in worn ribbons,
mourning my misplaced muse
and you were a whispering rose,
wilting at the slightest touch.

Bleeding 3am vents,
with...

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Alliteration always awesome
Ballad beyond barnyard basics
Crystalline calls careful consonants,

Diamante delivers deeply
Enthusiasm excites eager ears,
Fanciful frolicking faerie

Generously gives grateful glee
Hyping haiku to heavenly heights,
Imagery and imagination

Jubilantly jumping joyfully,
Kimo kindles king-sized kingpin,
Lamenting the lily-livered lunacy

Momentous muse modulates melody,
Necromancer normalizes Neverland,
Opulent Opalescent orchestras opt

To pollute poetry previously pristine.
Quixotic...

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My Mother taught me
how to see through language, 
paper was rare, iron ink wasn't free
so she sold some jewelry for porcelain lettering, 
and we clapped and sang the alphabet into life
our life, our joy, our phonetic rhapsody,
the consonants kicked and the syllables scrambled
a speedy scrimmage...

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"Sanskrit"



Tears like pearls of wisdom
crystal diamonds slip salty cool
hour glass down cheeks to lips

purse of gold unzipped 
forms exposed vowels and consonants
in the hostage pool

forming ebullient echo words
on moist glowing cupid’s bow
a ripe plumb kissed, then, juicy silence

words tightly bound
all thoughts and unnecessary sounds
cuffed, suspended

tongue...

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I listen to the young men
in their black turtlenecks
who spit their consonants forcefully
in cryptic metaphors 
about the state of the world.
Their work makes me think.
I guess this means it is good.

But I will never be
one of the edgy poets.

The sight of a bare tree
tugs on...

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 “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” Rumi

Life can be an incomplete glossary,
speech a haunting ghost,
in search of a perspicuous poem - 
to express unspoken thoughts.

I remember when she said,

"Cue me...

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Let's make love with our souls
 to the point 
we set our bodies ablaze
You can be my favorite fan 
who stokes that 
 internal flame
Sometimes I swear 
I'm going through the change
I'd trade all my masculinity
to taste the traces
of your feminity
Every thought
burns with so much...

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When the river of poetry has dried
Like parched clouds waiting for warmth
When the rain beats down on emptiness 
The god of rain demands to be penned

I pour myself a glass of wet wine
An offering to Bacchus to entreat
My muse, but she ain’t listening 
Her torrent...

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My voice is a hollow vessel
where words spiral down 
into a whirling dust storm
and exit dirty and unwanted
as if riding on the hooks
of some God-forsaken 120 degree desert.

No specific value has ever been
assigned to the words
that stick in my throat
and always leave like
a mumbled mishmash-
a...

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What is Love?
MAN I don't know!
I mean girls say it to me all the time, but I just blow off their emotions like smoke.

What is Love?
MAN I don't know!

I mean when you prove it to me the caterpillar I call my intestines goes into their...

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